Make You Feel This Way
by Magicians Hat
Summary: "What did you just say?" asked Sebastian. "You heard me." "Yeah, I heard you," he replied, muscles taut, "but I'm jut wondering why a 16-year-old boy like yourself thinks he can talk to my girlfriend like that." OR: Sebastian gets angry at cat-callers and uses that energy to fuel a passionate rest of the day with Carrie. Pure smut. You might need a fan; it's pretty hot.


It was the snide comment that did it for Sebastian. He'd seen the leering looks the boys at the video shop had given her, the eyebrow raises from the teenagers outside of the grocery store when they saw her tight — _tight_ — dress. But he had let the looks slide and simply woven his arm tightly around her waist. She'd snuggled into his side and looked up at him lovingly with those baby blues, and all of his anger melted away. Golly, the effect this girl had on him.

It really was only when the one boy — only about 5'11", a good four inches shorter than himself — whistled at them as they walked down the busy Manhattan street and yelled, "Hey girly, how's about you walk that beautiful ass back here so I can get a better look at it?" That Sebastian lost his mind. It was nineteen-eighty-fucking-six. People should know better than this.

Carrie, for her part, froze as Sebastian's grip on her waist tightened and every muscle fibre in him clenched. She whispered a soft, "Sebastian?" In such a terrified voice that he knew he had to do something.

Sebastian whipped around and stalked back to where the boy was laughing with all of his friends and silently willed them all to shut up. The ones who saw him obeyed immediately, and the ones who didn't were nudged to follow suit.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

The cat-caller's small conversation came to a screeching halt as his head whipped up to meet Sebastian's gaze. He had more of a baby face than Sebastian had originally thought; he couldn't have been more than sixteen, with brunet fringe and apparel that looked like it came from the very skate shops that Sebastian subsidized. He made a mental note. _New advertising campaign: if you wear my clothes, don't be an objectifying asshole._

He took a shaky breath. "You heard me."

"Yeah, I fucking heard you," Sebastian replied, muscles taut, "but I'm jut wondering why a 16-year-old boy like yourself thinks he can talk to my girlfriend like that."

The boy waved his hands in surrender. "Look, man, I'm not looking for any trouble… I was just admiring the view your girlfriend decided to put on display."

The next thing Sebastian knew, his first was colliding with the offender's face and he was ushering a frightened Carrie to the next block to hail a cab.

Their apartment was only about six blocks away, but Sebastian wasn't taking any chances. He wanted Carrie home safe, _now_ , so he could show her that he was the only one allowed to appreciate that view.

The taxi ride back to their place was tense. Carrie rolled her eyes at his barrage of questions about whether she was okay, or scared, or wanted to go back to Castlebury for a while. She told him the only place she wanted to be was by his side. His residual anger simmered a bit — as opposed to its earlier status of boiling over — after that. But he still felt that anger roll over him every time he thought about the way those boys had looked at her, or just the thought of her ever experiencing that alone…

So when Sebastian had paid the cabbie and helped Carrie get out of the car like a true gentleman would, he all but carried her up to the apartment and slammed the door shut behind them.

They had barely even gotten it locked by the time he had her shoved up against the door and his lips slanting wildly over hers.

* * *

Carrie seemed a bit shocked at first, letting out a soft shriek of surprise, but she understood his desperation and melted into him as he kept one hand on her back to pull her flush against him and the other flat on the door next to her face as if it would keep her from slipping away.

The noises she was making had shifted from evidence of surprise to soft mewls and pants of pleasure, her small mouth opening and closing in tandem with his larger one.

She jolted forward suddenly, and while Sebastian groaned at the unexpected friction between their hips, Carrie attempted to pull away. "Sebastian," she murmured breathlessly, and he would be damned if a kiss-hazed Carrie, lips swollen, wasn't the most beautiful thing on earth. "Sebastian—" he cut her off by kissing her again. Because he could. But again, she pulled away; Sebastian fought off a growl. "Sebastian, the _door_ —"

Oh, right. The door. At Carrie's height, the large metal bars laid across it would be digging into her back at an odd angle. Damn that industrial lock.

Sebastian kissed her jaw softly in apology before moving her off of the door and, just as quickly, slamming her forcefully against the adjacent wall. If she was surprised by this at all, she didn't show it. All she did was tug him back to her mouth by his hair and hook one leg around his waist.

This time, Sebastian didn't fight the growl that erupted from his throat. His girl was a fucking sex kitten.

Putting his leg in between hers in order to open them, Sebastian took both of his hands and cupped her ass — her beautiful, voluptuous, _only-for-his-eyes_ ass — to lift her off of the ground. He reveled in the sounds she made as he kneaded the soft flesh, pulling back to watch her face through hooded lids. Her eyes were closed, mouth opened in bliss as she ground her hips into his to find the friction she needed, and her chest was heaving with every breath she caught. She took the idle moment to open her eyes and wrap her legs fully around his hips, pressing her core into his jeans and making him groan and shut his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, she was looking at him innocently, her bottom lip caught deliciously between her teeth. Jesus _Christ_.

"You," he breathed, "are so fucking gorgeous, Bradshaw. And you're _mine_."

She nodded as her eyes slipped shut once more and her head tilted back against the wall. Sebastian took advantage of the sight of her exposed neck and dipped his head down to leave hot, wet kisses on her throat. Carrie sighed her approval.

Sebastian's right hand slipped from her ass (not before giving it one final squeeze, because he damn well could and that part of her deserved proper appreciation) to under the skirt of her dress, massaging her thigh.

"Oh," she gasped, "oh god, _Sebastian._ "

But he couldn't give her the satisfaction she needed, not until her clothes were off. Sebastian craved the sight of her, safe and happy and _naked_ , in front him. So before he let his hand crawl up her thigh to his favorite place, he slipped her cardigan off her shoulders and scrambled for the zipper on the back of her dress.

He allowed her legs to loosen one after the other on his waist so he could slip the colorful sundress off of them, using his upper body strength to keep her securely placed on the wall while he lifted his head back up to kiss her. He would honestly be content to kiss her twenty-four hours a day, every day of his life. If humans didn't require air to live, he would spend his life with his lips attached to hers.

"Kydd," she whimpered once she was out of her clothes and left only in her bra, panties and three-inch Mary Jane's, "Sebastian, this is hardly fair. I'm almost naked and you're… not." Her normally articulate brain was apparently struggling to form coherent sentences. Sebastian loved it. It meant she was as affected by him as he was by her.

"I think it's plenty fair, Bradshaw. Tonight, I show you every reason that I am the only one who gets to see you like this. I am the only one who gets to see these breasts—" — cue a kiss on top of each one that elicited breathy moans from Carrie that he _adored_ — "—and these legs—" — he gripped each one harshly within his hands before moving them back to her ass — "—and this gorgeous, _gorgeous_ ass that got more attention today than I would have liked—" — he rubbed circles into her flesh with his thumbs for good measure, and her eyes rolled back into her head — "—and, finally, my favorite spot that is _mine and mine only_ —" he moved one of his hands to slip under the front of her blue lace panties and almost choked when instead of feeling the normal patch of blonde curls he found down there, all he felt was smooth, baby-soft skin.

Sebastian's eyes snapped up to meet Carrie's, and she smiled mischievously at his enlarged pupils. She was clearly happy to have surprised him with something from her own arsenal. "It's a new fad, Kydd," she took her own hand and covered his before guiding it to palm her sex gently, moaning lightly as two of his fingers delved beneath her folds to feel her wetness. "It's m— _oh_ —much more comfortable and I figured you'd app—appreciate it, _ah!"_

"Bradshaw, you know that the more skin of yours that I get to see, the better." Sebastian crashed his lips back down to hers and brushed his thumb over her clit in appreciation for her new look. She cried out in response, arching forward and pressing herself to him. _Alright_ , he thought, _that's enough fucking teasing._

He maneuvered them off of the wall and towards the bed, stopping only when Carrie untucked his shirt from his pants and shakily attempted to unbutton it. Hissing at the delay, he simply ripped one side of it from the other and tossed it onto the couch. Not really caring about the condition of your clothes was a perk of being born into a rich family.

Sebastian was sure that in any other circumstance Carrie would have laughed at him for his haste, but he knew that she was so hot and heavy that the only thing she could focus on was the finger he had circling her entrance but not _quite_ entering her like she wanted it to. He was a merciful lover, however, so he slipped it inside of her before she could start begging.

"Oh, Sebastian, _yes!"_ She cried, rotating her hips on his digit and squeezing her eyes shut. He added another one as he continued to walk and watched her face intently, eager to see her reaction. "K—Kydd, oh my God! J—just like that, _Sebastian!"_

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. He could get off to just her moans.

He finally reached the bed and tossed her down onto it, ignoring her cry of protest at being empty once more. She wouldn't be empty for long, if he had anything to say about it. But for now, he was overheating and wearing corduroy pants was not helping him. He unbuckled them and shoved them down his legs as he kicked off his shoes. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of straining against those pants, his boner sprung up underneath his boxers. He looked up to see Carrie looking him up and down slowly, lip bitten and eyes wide.

"Like what you see?" Said Sebastian with his trademark shit-eating grin.

But Carrie knew better than to be embarrassed of his poking fun. She knew how to play with him like did with her, even if she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes and give him a snarky retort. Instead, she rubbed her thighs together to create friction and threw her head back onto the mattress, yelling, "Oh, _fuck—_ Sebastian! Ohhh, _yes!"_

 _Fuck._ She knew he had a thing for her swearing.

Sebastian's smirk melted from his face and he let out a territorial snarl before climbing over her writhing form. He grabbed both of her hands and locked them above her with his right arm, while his left slid underneath the small of her back to lift her upwards and flush against his chest. She took the hint and wrapped her legs around his middle, bringing her feet together to kick her heels onto the floor.

His eyes glinted, filled to the brim with want, as he scolded, "I was gonna have you keep those on, y'know."

Carrie shrugged in response. "Oops."

She proceeded to run her feet across the arch of his back, and down the curve of his ass to the back of his thighs. He shuddered in response. "I thought so," she panted cheekily.

This had been enough talking for Sebastian; he wanted action. He wanted her moaning beneath him as he got her off once, twice, three times to remind her who it was that could see her in this light, make her feel like this.

His hand crept toward her underwear again. "I'm sorry, baby," at her questioning look, he elaborated, "I'll buy you a new pair."

"Wha—"

He hooked two fingers underneath the soft cotton before tearing them off of her pelvis. The fabric was no match for his strength: it ripped right off of her and he threw it onto the floor next to the bed in disregard.

 _"Sebastian!"_ She sounded scandalized. _Whoops_.

But he was occupying himself with unclasping her bra. At least this one he would keep in-tact… for now. Once that was gone, he lowered his head to her right breast and took her nipple in his mouth, feeling it harden underneath his touch as Carrie gasped in pleasure and her fingers tangled into his hair. He moved onto the other one once he finished giving the first the proper attention, and repeated his movements. He could feel Carrie's arousal growing, for she was thrusting her hips onto his erratically and moaning his name in a way that made him want to make her scream.

His fingers once again found her core and she allowed her legs to loosen from around his waist, anticipating his touch. He slipped two fingers into her throbbing entrance while his thumb ever so gently brushed her clit in the way he knew would make her scream within minutes, and if he had any goals in life, that was it.

He began to scissor the two fingers that were inside of her, curling them until he found the spot that made her putty in his hands. He knew his obsession with giving her pleasure could be considered a bit creepy, but she made him so happy, did so much for him every day of their lives that how could he not want to make her feel just as loved and cherished? If love was based on anything, it was reciprocation.

Finally, after a few more brushes against her g-spot and circles around her clit, Carrie let out a primal scream of his name that he was sure would reach the neighbors. But he really, _really_ did not give a shit when all he could think about was her nails scratching down his back and her hair fanned out on their bed like a curly, golden halo. Her walls spasmed around his fingers as her eyelids fluttered and her chest pushed up against his. He allowed his head to lower enough to press a soft, loving kiss to her lips to which she responded hungrily.

Sebastian gazed at her lovingly as she came down from her high, kissing her neck and jaw and hair as her eyes refocused and her breathing leveled out. She looked up at him then and smiled, all of her love and adoration evident in her face. He was so lucky. So goddamn lucky.

Once reacquainted with the world, she was evidently eager to have him inside of her. She pushed her hips up to grind her soaking core against his throbbing erection and he could only manage a strangled, "Carrie…" before she was shoving his boxers down his legs and gyrating her hips on his naked cock. He sucked in a breath as he tried hastily to kick his boxers off, settling to just rip them like almost every other piece of clothing he'd encountered.

"Fuck, Carrie, feels so good," Sebastian gasped as she continued her ministrations.

Carrie could barely even reply as she ground herself onto him, already dripping. "S—Sebastian, please, _please_ …"

That was all the cue he needed. Sebastian pushed her hips flat onto the mattress and positioned himself at her entrance. He kissed her nose softly and whispered, "I love you," before slamming fully into her with a hiss.

Carrie let out a hoarse cry as he filled her up, lifting off of the bed to meet his thrusts. He didn't ease into it or allow her time to adjust; he began at a bruising pace and maintained it as he placed an equally bruising kiss onto her lips to catch both of their moans.

Ever the showboat, Sebastian lifted Carrie's leg from underneath him and placed it over his shoulder in an attempt to change the angle of penetration. This action, coupled with Carrie's hypersensitivity due to her previous orgasm, led her to turn and press her face into the comforter to try and muffle a particularly loud scream. Sebastian peppered her neck with open-mouthed kisses and hickeys in the absence of her lips.

She tried to meet his thrust with her hips, desperate to create as much friction as possible, but his pace was unforgiving and it was hard for her to keep up. Her nails seemed to gain minds of their own as they tore down his back, leaving him hissing from the dual pain and pleasure of her scratches.

"Sebastian… harder, please, _harder,"_ Carrie gasped, throwing her head backwards and squeezing her Kegel muscles to accommodate him.

"Oh, God, Carrie," groaned Sebastian in response; she was trapping him like a damn vice and he had to bite into his own lip to hold his orgasm back. No matter how many times they had sex, how many times he explored her body with his hands or teeth, making love to her felt like the first time. But this wasn't just making love, this was _fucking_. This was his primal, caveman instincts taking over his body and screaming in protest at the idea of other men looking at her like a piece of meat; this was his claiming of territory.

"Tell me," he breathed into her ear, "tell me who makes you feel this way. Tell me who can make you scream like this." He punctuated his sentence with a particularly hard thrust that had her seeing stars and crying his name.

He so badly wanted to let go, wanted to let himself fall off of that cliff into unfathomable pleasure. He could feel it building in his gut, but he had to get her off first. And he couldn't come until he was sure she knew who it was that did this to her.

Carrie nearly sobbed her response. "Y—You, Sebastian! Only you, oh God… I'm so close, I'm—!" He could feel her walls tightening around him and beginning to flutter, and his vision was tunneling fast.

Sebastian bit down on her earlobe before growling, "Say my name, Carrie. _Say my name_." He slammed his lips down against hers again as he pounded into her harder — if possible — than before.

He brought his hand down to pinch her clit, and he knew that was the end for her. Her walls fluttered around his cock and her eyes rolled backwards as she shrieked with reckless abandon: _"Sebastian!"_

With that, with her acknowledgement of the fact that only he could bring her to this high, Sebastian finally let himself go. His vision clouded white and he choked out her name as his eyes closed and his forehead rested against hers, his pace becoming sloppy as he allowed them both to ride out their orgasms. He could feel his toes curling and his abdominals clenching as he let out ragged breaths until finally coming to a stop inside of her.

When he finally opened his eyes, Carrie was staring at him through hazy eyes, her smile content and face relaxed and void of all stress. Her hair was in disarray and sticking to her face and her lips were swollen and reddening with beard burn. She was gorgeous; she was sunshine; she was a goddess.

"Hey," he whispered, "hi."

"Hey, hi." She whispered back.

He was still holding onto her, still intertwined with her in every physical sense. He always did this after sex with her as he wanted her to know that sex for him wasn't just about the getting off: it was about the emotional connection that came with the physical one. It was two people, so glaringly in love, attached in every sense. He held onto her for hours on end after sex, either talking or just lying there and enjoying her company. There was no place he would rather be than with her in his arms.

"You want to talk about that?" Carrie asked, grinning and playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.  
Sebastian shrugged. "I got angry. I figured a better way to express that was to fuck you till you screamed as opposed to kicking those kid's asses." He smirked at the blush that traveled across her cheeks and the raise of her eyebrows.

"Sebastian!" She tried to smack his chest playfully, but he caught her hand and kissed it. Her eyes softened at the gesture.

"I just hate that other guys look at you like they do," he murmured with eyes downcast, "or talk to you the way they do. You're mine, I'm yours, we're a packaged deal."

He felt her press a kiss to his cheek and lifted his eyes back to hers. "Well," she began, "I know that you're mine. You know that I'm yours. What else matters?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

As she turned to face the window and pulled the sheets to cover them both, he knew he'd feel differently the next morning. He knew he'd be just as territorial, just as ridiculously overprotective, just as primal. But lying there with her, with her small body encased by his and her hands clasped around his wrists, he was content with the idea that they were the only people that mattered.

And so he pressed a small kiss to the back of her neck and breathed in the scent of her hair and waited for the morning to come.

* * *

 **Woohoo! That was hot. Please review, makes me want to write! xo**

 **Mar**


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